Page 77 of True North
His heart raced so fast he felt queasy. This was his final moment of not knowing. Until he answered, he was a free man. After he answered—
He hit the button. “Adeola, hi.”
“Good news,” she said, and Misha closed his eyes. “Kirill’s going to cooperate with us.”
“Okay,” Misha said. He couldn’t feel his fingers.
“He was glad to hear you’re okay,” Adeola went on. “I expect the charges will be formally dropped within the next few weeks.”
“Thank you,” Misha said. “Maybe you talk to JT. Sorry, I’m,” and then he gave up and thrust the phone across the table to JT.
“What is it?” JT asked, taking the phone from his hand, expression stricken. “What happened?”
“It’s good,” Misha said, and covered his face with his hands to have his emotions in peace as JT spoke with Adeola.
Twenty-Nine
JT and Misha spent the weekend doing nothing much of anything. They slept in, watched more of Misha’s favorite shows than JT would usually tolerate, and fished a little, idly and catching nothing because they were too busy flirting with each other to pay attention to their lines. On Sunday morning, JT drove them up to a place called Batchawana River, about an hour north of the city, where he said they could do some hiking. Out in the deep woods, far away from the highway or any other people, Misha couldn’t resist shifting to amble around in the shady forest for a while.
JT went with him, at times resting his hand on Misha’s back as they walked side by side through a clearing. That gentle, casual touch settled Misha in his skin. JT accepted him as he was, bear and all, in all of his bad habits and anxieties. He laughed when Misha waded into the underbrush to investigate a delicious smell that turned out to be a fallen log full of beetle larvae. He crouched patiently on the riverbank while Misha splashed around in the shallows, chasing fish.
“Thank you,” Misha said to him as they walked back to the truck.
“Good to get outside sometimes,” JT said, deflecting as he always did. But he looked pleased.
Misha would miss the woods, in Toronto. There were parks, but no great wild expanses like this one, nowhere good for him to shift and roam. When he had lived in Toronto before, he routinely went months without shifting because he didn’t own a car and didn’t know any shifters who might give him a ride, so it was too much trouble to leave the city.
Things would be different this time. He could get a driver’s license and use JT’s car. They could go on day trips together when JT was in town, if he had time. Maybe Misha would even have the time and energy to meet some other shifters. He had survived before, and this time it would be better.
These thoughts were still swimming through his head on Monday evening as he and JT drove into town for the biweekly shifter meeting. Misha wanted very badly to skip the meeting because he was certain everyone had heard about his arrest by now and he didn’t want to have to answer any questions about it. He had managed to lure JT into the hot tub and situated himself so thoroughly in JT’s lap that he thoughtsurelyJT would get distracted and forget about the meeting. It hadn’t worked. Now Misha was going to have to face the music.
JT tended more toward being late to things than being early, but traffic was unexpectedly light on the way into town and they arrived a good ten minutes before the meeting was supposed to start. The pub was quiet as Misha and JT walked through the door, without any of the laughter or cheerful shouting Misha had come to expect. When he peeked into the main room of the pub, he could see that only about a quarter of the usual attendees had already arrived.
“You don’t need me here, right?” JT asked. “I was thinking about hitting the grocery store.”
“Oh,” Misha said. “Okay, that’s fine.” He did actually find it reassuring to have JT sitting at the bar during the meetings, but he couldn’t pretend he was as painfully uncertain as he had been the first time he attended. He still felt a little shy, but it was a normal human shyness of being a relative stranger among people who knew each other well, not the near-terror of a bear who had been out in the wilderness alone for too long.
JT gave his elbow a fond squeeze before he left. Misha went alone into the pub.
Lenny was behind the bar, filling plastic pitchers with beer. He smiled when he spotted Misha and called, “Get you a drink?”
Misha hoisted himself onto a bar stool. “Moosehead?”
“A solid Canadian brew.” Lenny poured a pint glass and slid it across the bar. “How are things for you?”
“Good. Um, my lawyer said probably they drop charges against me. So, like.” He sipped at the thin layer of foam on the top of his beer. “It’s good now, I guess.”
Lenny’s beard parted to reveal his huge grin. “Hey! That’s fantastic. Really glad to hear that, Misha.”
Misha nodded. “Thank you. It’s big relief.” He took another sip of his beer to give himself a moment to get his expression under control. Hearing the news over the phone had been somewhat anticlimactic; he had felt more overcome at his release hearing, with the powerful and immediate relief of being able to go home. But speaking the words now made them real. He would be forgiven of all his sins. He could put his past life behind him and move forward into the future JT had offered him.
“Glad you made it tonight, with everything going on,” Lenny said, either oblivious to Misha’s emotional tumult or pretending to be. “It’s going to be a big meeting tonight.”
“Oh?”
“Oh yeah. Planning the annual camping trip up to Pukaskwa. I expect the discussion to come to blows.” He wiped his hands on a rag and grinned at Misha. “Don’t look so horrified. I’m joking. All of the blows will be figurative.”
“It’s argument?” Misha asked.